


A Lovely Evening

by tal_5



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Awkward Romance, Fluff, Homophobia, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_5/pseuds/tal_5
Summary: Invited to a party he couldn't care less about, Logan waits for something. He doesn't quite know what he's waiting for, but he sure does once that 'something' arrives in a pair wearing yellow and baby blue.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	A Lovely Evening

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: swearing/strong language, implied homophobia, sympathetic deceit and very slight implied sexism (bc of the time it’s written in)
> 
> originally a request on my tumblr from an anon

Logan decides that nothing completes an evening quite like a glass of chardonnay.

Expensive bodies shuffle around the room, mingling with classy smiles and wicked eyes, observing their partner. Always observing. He can’t judge too harshly however, as he is equally as guilty as they are.

Understanding the oil and cogs that make the human mind run has its benefits. One of such is, of course, growing in wealth and getting invited to parties much like this, with a buffet the working class could only dream of and a ballroom bright enough to return sight to the blind. But another benefit, one with more ungenerous intentions attached is one he’s learned to master. Manipulating one’s decisions until they suit his needs.

Because Logan can’t even marginally relate to these people. Because _he_ is a member of the working class.

Does anyone within ten feet of him know that? Possibly. Do they care? Most likely. Will they do anything about it? They wouldn’t dare.

Logan James William O’Connell has connections that could ruin them all.

He would never use confidential information as a source of blackmail, of course. But he can’t say he wouldn’t think about it. And he definitely can’t _say_ he wouldn’t do it, because they can ruin _his_ life too. It’s only fair.

Across the room, he spots a familiar shade of bumblebee yellow weave through a group of people conversing by the entrance. His lips quirk upwards but he sips his wine to stop it. Dale Sanders, a guy with the suave to force a man out of his seat and still get a ‘thank you’. Mister Dale Edward Thomas Norval Sanders has already begun his climb to the top, gracefully slithering past aged hands still clinging to the rungs and waving to the hundreds of naive faces from above.

Their first conversation had been brief. A mundane discussion of the news, only lightly touching upon the recent Arnon Street case and showing mild interest in one another, certifying the chance of speaking again. From their next meeting at a fundraiser held by one of Logan’s ‘connections’, they learned everything they could about one another, right from the colour of their hair to their deepest, most desperate dreams.

And, soon afterwards, Logan came to the realisation that he was a fool.

He’s still a fool, falling for Dale’s shtick of batting his lashes until his companion swoons and pulls out their check-book. But he also doesn’t care, he knows Dale very well and is in the practice of calling out one’s bullshit. So, he’s safe for now.

“Logan,” that velvety voice says approaching from behind him. “I wasn’t sure whether I would see you here, what, with your adorable ructions at her last ‘pow-wow’. What made you decide to come?”

Ignoring the heat creeping up his neck, Logan shrugs and places his glass down on a nearby table. “Well, ‘ruction’ is a bit of an overstatement, surely. It was more of a juvenile spat than a fight,” he says softly, fiddling with his cuff links to perhaps seem as if he were doing something important, like disarming a bomb. “But I decided to pay this party a visit because I figured you might be here and… we didn’t get to talk much last time we met.”

Dale’s eyes seem to zero in on him, tracing the collar of his shirt up to the slight ridge in his nose. Normally, the attention on such a flawed part of his face would make him squirm and back away, but the gleaming intrigue in his mismatched eyes drains the shame from his face and replaces it with a longing so intense it nearly paralyses him.

“Oh, but I thought we spoke rather vigorously.”

Logan cocks an eyebrow. “We shared but a few words before Evelyn drew you away into her little circle of clucking hens,” he says, picking up his glass and sipping the last of his wine. “All because your father bagged some deal with an unknown money launderer.”

With a low hum that builds at the back of his throat, Dale nods along with Logan’s explanation, taking a few measured steps closer and leaning so close one may misunderstand the nature of their relationship. “My, my, Logan. If someone were to hear you right now, they might just believe you were jealous.”

Scoffing, Logan tries to pretend the heat of Dale’s breath isn’t warming up his face quite nicely, nor does he note that Dale smells pleasantly of mint, pine and black pepper. “Jealousy doesn’t get us anywhere,” he murmurs. “Knowledge and communication does, and if I want something I’ll use all of the advanced skills I have to obtain it.”

“And what would you use that knowledge to… ‘obtain’?” Dale asks, voice deep and soft.

Logan really doesn’t appreciate his grin.

But before he can voice such thoughts, a sudden gust of wind knocks his glass over and he rushes to catch it, glaring at the doorway before feeling the air freeze up in his lungs.

The man being escorted into the ballroom by an older man with the same button nose as him is nothing short of beautiful. Completely and utterly _beautiful_.

Hair pooling in curls in silent rebellion, bragging their miscellaneous blonde and peach colour to all who look at him, and who can resist the pull of his smile? _That smile_. No man, nor woman, would hesitate to give up everything to be its cause. Be it their wealth, their reputation, or the foundation of what makes up who they are. They would all sit in a pretty bow at his feet.

Beside him, Dale clicks his tongue and smiles. “And just when I thought I’d found the belle of the ball.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure your intentions would be received well.”

“Never know until I try, right?”

A hand warm enough to cradle a newborn babe to sleep squeezes something within his chest. The sensation spreads throughout his body, up to his face and clogging up his thoughts with smoke and bright lights. He shrugs loosely once again, leaning back against the table and pretending not to notice the way Dale tugs at his yellow tie. “Good luck with that, Dale.”

There’s a hand slipping into his, a napkin in front of his face and Dale’s nose suddenly tapping his gently. His eyes search Logan’s for something that is talented at remaining hidden, but Dale proves to be its ultimate weakness, as soon enough there are lips pressed to his. Barely. But there.

Dale feigns dabbing at ‘wine’ on Logan’s cheek and smiles, a hint of honesty in such serpent eyes. “No need to worry, honey, no man can hold a candle to you.”

Logan swallows. “Good.”

Drawing back, Dale manages to catch the eye of the dashing man across the room, offering a smile that seems to bring colour to the man’s cheeks. And Logan just can’t believe he may actually be interested. Dale glances back at him, dark hair falling over his face for a moment until he gels it back again. “See? Are you interested too? I know I am.”

“Oh, well, is that not… inappropriate?” Logan asks, glancing between both Dale and the mysterious stranger.

“Not at all. I mean,” he pauses, glancing down before meeting Logan’s gaze. “Others may not see it in the best light, much like many don’t understand our ‘lifestyle’. But if there’s the possibility of being in a healthy and beautiful relationship with two people you love, don’t you think you should be able to try?”

Logan, biting his lower lip, imagines what a life that could be. Coffee and the newspaper and feeling those lips against his once again, but with another’s head resting on his shoulder, his curls tickling Logan’s jawline.

“I think… that sounds nice.”

Dale grins and takes his hand, releasing it almost immediately afterwards as they head towards the glowing man they’ve been ogling for the last few minutes.

Much faster than Logan had expected, they’re standing face-to-face with a beaming smile that could send any deity to their knees. Long lashes stark against his pale skin and spattered brown freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, a few more spread over various other parts of his face. A pretty flush rising up on the apples of his cheeks, bringing out the striking deep blue of his eyes and emphasising the soft roundness of his face. He brings a hand up to the small amount of hair tied up with a pastel blue hair tie, tightens the knot, and then holds the same hand out in front of him.

“Patton Matchinski, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Dale takes it first, shaking it gently and clearly making as much eye contact as he can with the young noble. He doesn’t seem to mind however, only smiling back at him with a growing flush he attempts to hide behind his free hand. “Dale Sanders. The pleasure is all mine.”

When Patton turns to shake _his_ hand, Logan feels his palms begin to sweat and he tries to smile back at him with the same interest Dale had displayed. “Logan O’Connell. You look lovely.”

Seemingly surprised by his boldness, Patton stammers for a moment before laughing and stuttering out a ‘thank you’, all under the watchful eye of Dale, who is obviously finding this both attractive and incredibly amusing. Logan asks about his family and they talk, Dale nodding along until he has his own question about the company Patton’s father owns.

It’s delightful until Patton asks Logan about his own family.

He pauses for only a moment before clearing his throat. “My father is the Supreme Court judge in Wales, we don’t have a relationship for only the fact that I am a homosexual. Do you have a problem with this at all?”

Usually, Logan cares not for the opinions of others on his personal life, but only on his professional achievements and goals. But for some reason, as they stand far enough into the ballroom that the evening air shouldn’t drift so far inside, Logan feels a bucket of water drown him in an icy chill. But Patton simply smiles. “I don’t. I myself find myself… attracted to those of the same sex. So…”

Dale meets his eye and barely manages to stifle a satisfied grin. “Wonderful to hear.”

Patton, suddenly switching personas, gazes up at them through his long lashes, a knowing smile growing on his face. “And why would that be?”

“Let’s talk about that, shall we?”

They make their way through the ballroom until they make it to the entrance, stepping out into the cloudy night and finding somewhere to sit. A picnic table reserved for future events is situated at one side of the building, only a few feet away from a side door leading to the garden they’ve found. Dale sits beside Logan, draping an arm around his shoulders and snickering when Logan tenses up nervously.

“Not to pry, but how does your family feel about…?”

He trails off, but the three of them all know the end to that sentence. They’ve heard it enough themselves.

Patton, looking as if trapped in a daydream, smiles. “My father has nothing against it and wishes me happiness, my mother… doesn’t care much for it but has learned to keep that to herself,” he says as he undoes the top two buttons of his shirt, letting the breeze cool his heated skin. “As long as it doesn’t disrupt the success of my father’s company, no one really cares. Though, I know it’s not like that for many others. I’m just lucky.”

“I’m glad you got lucky.” Logan says.

“Thank you,” replies Patton.

Clearing his throat anxiously, Patton turns to Logan and beams. “I heard from my father that you’re a fan of astronomy, or, the study on stars or whatever.”

The flippant language used by a nobleman of such high reputation startles Logan for a moment, but after that one moment, he finds it rather funny. And attractive. Very much so.

“I do enjoy it, yes. The universe as merely a concept is fascinating, don’t you think? We know so little about it and to set off on a journey to discover more just… It excites me.”

Patton’s expression is fond, chin propped up in his hand and eyes completely focused on where Logan is sitting, rigid and hot. He turns to Dale and asks whether he has much interest in the study of stars, to which Dale explains his unending affection towards his own line of work: law. And right about then, Logan concentrates totally on the conversation, learning more about how courts and laws work from Dale than from any of his lectures and seminars.

Even Patton, whose interests lie in the kitchen, seems infatuated with the system and is enamoured with how smooth Dale’s voice is, or maybe that’s just Logan projecting. He tends to do that when he definitely shouldn’t.

“Yes, it’s not an easy career, but it is so rewarding that every bad experience only serves to remind me why I should work hard to stay exactly where I am.” Dale says, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips.

Patton’s eyes are wide and oh-so blue. They look as if they’re trying to consume every ounce of information around him. “Wow, that sounds incredible. I love to cook and bake because I can be creative. I can decide how much of what goes into a recipe. With baking and cooking, I have control. Power. Much like you.”

Before Dale can ruin their time together with his sometimes egotistical views on his own achievements, Logan kicks him in the shin and smiles over at where Patton is nearly swooning. Dale sends him a quick glare before grinning again, taking Logan’s chin in his hand, and kissing him. No hiding. In front of Patton. Outside. It’s deep and it’s tender, and Logan can’t help leaning into it, forgetting where he is for just a second or two.

He realises it’s revenge as soon as they pull apart. They see Patton’s smile falter slightly and curse themselves for getting too caught up in one another. Dale coughs. “Have you ever considered… having more than one romantic partner, Patton?”

Expression opening to one of shock, Patton stutters nonsensical sentences until he manages to take a breath. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“I am right now.”

Logan would very much like to punch Dale in his stupid face, but stays silent and watches for Patton’s reactions, twisting the hem of his shirt in his fingers to let out nervous energy. From across the table, Patton ponders the statement and covers his mouth, his face growing gradually more and more scarlet as the seconds pass. “I think… maybe, I would like that.”

Nervous, he reaches across the table and takes one hand of both Logan and Dale in both of his. “How would we do this? Dinner in the guise of a meeting?”

Though the weight of societal resentment and expectations hurts his back, and even though that ache drifts down to his chest and stomach, Logan smiles and nods. “I would like that.”

Dale winks over at the two of them and kisses the knuckles on Patton’s hand. “You already know what my answer is.”

And, looking across the garden, at how it has transformed in the pale gentleness of the moonlight, Logan breathes. What a lovely evening, indeed.


End file.
